The Other Boleyn Boy
by KingdomHeartsNerd
Summary: This... is the story of the seven year Boleyn invasion. This is the story of the rise and fall of the Boleyns, the story of how some of them lost their heads and how some resorted to drastic measures to escape. This is the story of Anne, Queen Consort of England, Ireland and France, and Henry, King of England, Ireland and France.
1. Prologue

**The Other Boleyn Boy**

**Written By KingdomHeartsNerd**

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**Chapter I: Prologue**

**1524**

_My name is Henry Boleyn. I am the second son of Thomas Boleyn and Elizabeth Howard and am their fourth of six surviving children. I am eleven. And this is my story. The story of The Other Boleyn Boy._

_The year is fifteen twenty four. King Henry, a tudor born and bred, is on the throne with his wife - the Spanish Katherine of Aragon - by his side. Katherine of Aragon has given him only one child - a girl, Mary, named after the King's sister, __The Dowager Queen of France and Duchess of Suffolk. Everyone knows - including me, since Papa has often spoken of it - that the King cannot be succeeded by a girl. It is the same with all noble families - George will inherit everything, except for the money left aside for mama, myself and my siblings, after Papa's death._

_I have three sisters - Mary, the eldest at twenty five, Anne, the next at twenty three, and Eleanor, aged just nine - and two brothers - George, exactly twenty, and tiny little Thomas, aged just three. According to Mama, Thomas was unexpected._

_Mary, blonde haired and blue eyed, is married, to a man named William Carey, and is currently very fat; Mama tells me it's because a baby is growing in her stomach. Anne, recently returned from France, and of middling stature, with a swarthy olive, complexion, long neck, wide mouth, beautiful black eyes and dark black hair, is not yet married, nor even betrothed; Papa is hoping to find a very good match for her. George, at twenty, is due to be married very soon, to Jane Parker, a distant relative of King Henry. At eleven, nine and three respectively, I, Eleanor and Thomas are much to young to be married, though Papa will begin searching for me in three years time._

_Mama is a nice lady; descended from the noble Howards, royal blood runs through her veins. She loves all of her children, though Anne is her favourite. Papa, on the other hand, is not an affectionate man; he, merely a knight, does not see any of us as children, or even humans, and uses Mary as a political tool; rumours say that they baby in her stomach is not William Carey's, but the King's._

_William Carey - originally supposed to be Anne's husband - is tall, dark haired and very muscular, if a little stupid. That is how we will know if the child is his; if it has dark hair like him, or blonde hair like Mary, then the child is William's, but if the hair is red, then the child is the King's._

_The whole family, excluding Mary and William, live at Hever Castle, in Wiltshire. It is a huge castle, though not as big as the castles in London, and Papa has decorated it with lots of things to show off his rising status._

_I always thought that things would stay the same - that we would all marry and live happily ever after. Then, Anne got involved and seduced the King, throwing England into termoil, splitting families and bringing ruin to the Boleyns. _

_This... is the story of the seven year Boleyn invasion. This is the story of the __rise and fall of the Boleyns, the story of how some of them lost their heads and how some resorted to drastic measures to escape. This is the story of Anne, Queen Consort of England, Ireland and France, and Henry, King of England, Ireland and France. This... is the story of how the Boleyns rose and fell through the actions of one single woman._


	2. The Court of King Henry VIII

**The Other Boleyn Boy**

**Written By KingdomHeartsNerd**

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**Chapter II: The Court of King Henry VIII**

**1525**

Over the past year, not much had changed for we Boleyns; Mary gave birth to a red haired girl, whom she named Katherine, who was obviously the King's daughter, Anne took the interest of the King, but seemed uninterested herself, and Papa was made Viscount Rochford. Nothing much truly changed until Mary, Anne, Eleanor, George and I were taken to court by Papa.

The first days at court were, for me, at least, rather peaceful; Eleanor was stuffed in with Princess Mary and her other companions, Lady Frances Brandon and Lady Eleanor Brandon - the daughters of Queen Mary Tudor, Dowager Queen of France - to begin lessons under her tutor.

My sister, Mary, already a member of the Queen's household - that was how she had been noticed by the King - had been given the unfortunate task of introducing Anne, and Eleanor a few days later, to the Queen; the third of Queen Katherine's new ladies was twelve year old Lady Elizabeth Seymour. Queen Katherine was of a very fair complexion, had blue eyes, and long flowing hair that was between a reddish-blonde and auburn, something which, according to Papa - now Viscount Rochford - and uncle Norfolk, was common in the family she descended from. Queen Katherine was fourty years old, and now unable to have more children.

Princess Mary - whom Eleanor studied with when not working as a Lady-in-waiting to the Queen - was a small girl. At nine years of age she had the flaming red hair of her father, the big nose that apparently came from Margaret Beaufort, small beady eyes, and a mouth that was always slightly turned down into a snear. All in all, she was rather unnatractive, but she was still the Heiress presumptive to the Crown. Everyone knew, of course, that this was only because she did not have any brothers and that the Queen and King Henry had not shared a bed since the Queen's last miscarriage in 1518.

I, now Lord Boleyn due to Papa being made Viscount Rochford in June, found myself placed with Henry Brandon. While not attractive, per se, he was, admittedly, cute. At nine years old, Henry Brandon had the dark hair of his father but possessed the grey eyes of his mother and was tall and slender with a round face. The two of us bonded almost instantly, despite the three year age gap between us.

The only one not happy with the arrangements at court it seemed, was George, and I knew why.

"Jane Parker?" I inquired, kicking off my boots and putting both feet onto the table of his chambers, reclining in the chair, both hands behind my head as I looked over to him. He raised his head and give me a look that shows how much he hated the woman. "It will be fine, George. Just get it over with."

While George braced himself for his marriage in October, Mary found herself with child again - this time William Carey was the father - and she retired to Hever Castle - on father's orders - to have her child. That, at least, was the public excuse; none of us could have forseen what Papa actually intended to do, what Papa actually intended to use Anne for.

We'd soon find out as the weeks trundled on.

The admiring glances that Anne had drawn from all the people who wanted her in their bed before now began coming from the King. He sent dishes at supper, trinkets - very expsensive royal trinkets - during the day and even letters.

When Mama looked over one of the trickets, she cried "Good god!" at the sight of it; she went on to explain that the trinket was no ordinary trinket and that it had belonged to the King's Mother, Elizabeth of York, whom Mama had been a lady-in-waiting too.

Anne, being a woman, ignored him and moved onto other pastures; Thomas Wyatt for example. Eleanor admitted she'd rather have the King, for she'd fallen in love with him and she admitted that, if she was in Anne's place, she would have thrown herself at the King. Sister like sister, it seems.

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Over the coming days, I had to hand it to Anne; I may not like her, and she may be insufferably arrogant and insufferably ambitious, but I did have to hand it to her. She _was_ good. _Very _good.

Somehow, she had managed to convince the King that a day hunting would be good; as the King thundered off with his entourage - namely Anne, Eleanor, George, Mary, Edward and Thomas Seymour and Henry Norris - in tow, I never having been one for riding, settled myself in the chambers belonging to the Boleyns.

Openly preferring the attention and courtship of our married cousin Thomas, who wrote her poem after poem, and who sent her notes, sweetmeats, even a paltry gift or two, Anne ignored the King, yet kept him enticed enough to wet his appetite. I would never have guessed that Anne was aiming for the top prize of all: the crown of England, none of us would.

It was very dark when they returned; it had to be at least midnight, if not the early morning. I had read all of the books that Anne had brought to court - which were not many - and the King, joyfully flushed at the success of the hunt, led the Boleyns - now including me - to the Queen's rooms.

Sewing an alter cloth, Queen Katherine was there; Princess Mary - still looking very ugly, despite being dressed resplendently in the tudor livery - was there too, playing the lute; Eleanor took a seat next to her. Once Princess Mary had finished playing, King Henry clapped and kissed his wife, then his daughter, before becoming dreadfully bored.

There. That was Anne's chance, and she took it like a shot. She began to sing; it was an old song, one which Mama had taught her, Mary and Eleanor years ago when I was just a baby; it was the song that Anne and Eleanor had been singing on the journey to court.

_"The ash grove, how graceful, how plainly tis speaking,_  
_the harp wind through it playing has language for me._  
_Whenever the light through its branches is breaking_  
_a host of kind faces is gazing on me._  
_The friends of my childhood again are before me,_  
_each step wakes a memory as freely I roam._  
_With soft whispers laden its leaves rustle o'er me,_  
_the ash grove, the ash grove again alone is my home."_

As Eleanor joined the duet, Queen Katherine's eyes narrowed and, leaning over, she whispered something to one of her ladies who was dressed in spanish garb similar to her. The King listened silently; once Anne and Eleanor were done, he left silently. Anne made to follow, but Queen Katherine, having witnessed her husband take many a mistress over the last fifteen years, prevented her from doing so.

"Madamoiselle Boleyn, a moment, please?"

Eleanor and I froze, both with wonder and worry.

"Majesty?"; Anne's voice was questioning, though, Eleanor, the Queen and I all knew that she had no question behind her words; she knew what she had done.

"I know what you are doing, Madamoiselle, do not think I do not know." The voice of the Queen was full of loathing and as hard of nails; her steady gaze, a gaze of pure hatred and obviously inherited from her Spanish forefathers, outmatched even my sister's. "You seek to charm the King away from my bed and into yours, do you not? No, there's no need to answer; I already know the answer. I have been the King's loving wife these past fifteen years, Madamoiselle. I know how his mistresses think; I know how your sister thought. I warn you, Anne Boleyn, that King Henry is is my boy, and he will always be my boy, wherever he is, whatever he is doing. Remember that. Now, get out. Acting like that in front of the King in my presence again will result in your immediate dismisal. Consider that your first and only warning Madamoiselle."

Anne curtseyed silently, then swept from Queen Katherine's chambers like she owned half the palace; Eleanor trotted hastily after her. I bowed to the Queen, then to Princess Mary and took my leave too, the Queen's laughter ringing out in victory behind me.

Eleanor, loyal to Anne and the most likely person to follow her to ruin, was stood in the hall with Anne.

"What are you going to do? About Queen Katherine, I mean?" Inquired Eleanor, anxiously.

"Not that I approve of what you are doing, Anne," I began, my voice level, as I too reached her. "But I too would like to know what you are going to do."

Once again, Anne proved herself willing to go to any lengths to get what she wanted. She whirled around to face us, posture erect, jaw set, dark eyes flashing.

"I'm going to prove her wrong. I'm going to make him marry me. I'm going to set Katherine aside, and take her crown. And if you so much as _breathe_ a _word_ to _anyone_, I will _kill_ you!"

With that, she stalked off, looking like a petulant child. Eleanor remained near me, looking very nervous.

Anne wouldn't dream of removing an annointed Queen from her position would she? King Henry wouldn't dare, surely? He'd drag England into a war with Spain if he did.

Surely Anne wouldn't dare?

Surely not?

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**A/N:- Eleanor Boleyn belongs to Lady Eleanor Boleyn; I only own Henry Boleyn and his brother, Thomas Boleyn, and any children I choose to give them, nothing more.**


End file.
